Natural Tendencies
by femurdreamer
Summary: Boys who grow up in abusive homes tend to be violent as adults. Sweets decides to test Booth's natural tendencies. The whole team will discover just how delicate rage is.
1. Growing Up

**Hey there readers! Sorry it's taken so long for me to get a new story up…..you know how things are….but before I ramble into pretexts, let's get on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: Let's just for today say I own Bones…..watcha gonna do about it, huh?**

**Never mind, I don't own Bones—I'd feel too guilty doing that, and speaking of guilt…..**

**So this takes place somewhere in season 3. Sweets barely knows the partners, and your typical angst ensues.**

The room was dead silent as always. Sweets was just testing their tension. How long could either of them go without blurting something out? It would be Booth who would break the silence. It always was.

Booth told himself it wasn't awkward. Naturally it was. Sweets had observations to observe. Bones had her anthropological inevitabilities to analyze. Sports reels played over and over and over in Booth's head. If he said something he'd be the one with "issues being passive" -issues that must be discussed at a later session.

The second hand ticked away. They were all counting the seconds.

Finally, "So we're done here I guess." Yes, it was Booth who broke the silence just as the young psychologist had suspected. "Come on, Bones, I'll take you out to dinner."

"Agent Booth, we're not done here. May I ask why you're always so eager to get out of these sessions?"

"Oh, come on Sweets. We've just been sitting here for the past thirteen and a half minutes. You haven't even said anything. Let's go Bones." Just as Booth jumped up from his chair and grabbed Brennan's arm Sweets murmured, "Actually I want to talk about why you can never seem to sit still for extended periods of time. You're an action man I know, but in this session I want to explore your underlying tendencies to remain passive in a tense environment."

Brennan finally piped in, "I've noticed this when we take long drives to a crime scene. Booth can never settle for a minute or two when nobody talks."

"Thanks Bones, I needed you to provoke the twelve year old."

"Ah, once again mocking my age. We'll explore age in another session down the road. But for now I want you to tell me why silence makes you so uneasy." If he wanted to get out of there he was just going to have to force an answer, choke down the psychoanalysis, and stick to his story. Nothing he hadn't done before.

"Alright, if I tell you can Bones and I go get some dinner?"

"Sure, I don't see why not."

"Okay, I guess it started in the military. Every soldier is taught not to speak unless spoken to. So every emotion I had got bottled up inside of me, and I guess when there's silence all those emotions come rushing back and the only way to release them is to break the quiet. There you go. Can we go Bones." He tugged her arm again climbing out of the saggy chair.

"Actually Booth I'd like to stay. I haven't said anything the whole time."

"Oh, you, Miss I Hate Psychology want to stay and talk about why you feel the need to break silence."

"If you remember I didn't say anything during the thirteen and a half minutes, and it was you who tried to drag me out of here."

"She's right Agent Booth. Please sit down and tell me about your childhood. Was there often silence in your home? Abnormal tension? Were you ignored? Neglected? Abandoned?-"

"—No actually I grew up in a rough home. One you wouldn't even imagine," Booth's temper rose, "I never had silence in my house. If Dad wasn't drunk and screaming at me and Jared, he was passed out snoring on the couch. The only silence we ever knew was when he was off at some grimy bar. And do you think that was a nice peaceful time for me? No, I was scared shitless. How drunk was Dad? What was he gonna hit us with tonight? Could I keep from screaming when he did it? The only silence I knew was panic." Booth was screaming at Sweets, beet red and enraged. The doctor kept a stable countenance all the while.

"When you make us sit here minute after minute, I can only imagine my dad bursting through the door belt in hand. So excuse me, but I can't be here anymore." Booth swung himself out of the chair and bolted out the door leaving nothing but the blinds swinging awkwardly on the window.

"Dr. Sweets, Booth is very sensitive about his childhood. I suggest that in the future you keep the topic as light as possible and keep the conversation going the whole time. By his nature he can't sit submissive without starting and argument. Booth is a man of action."

"Yes Dr. Brennan, I know. In fact, I know his entire childhood story. I know about his father and his brother and the lack of a mother figure."

"What are you trying to uncover?"

"I'm sure you know that often times boys who grow up in abusive homes become violent after adolescence."

"Yes, but Booth is violent. He was a ranger wasn't he? Killing fifty people equates to violence."

"But he was told to do that for his country, not for himself. It was not a way to express the pent up rage and fear he's stored since youth. I'm very interested in knowing how Booth reacts under the same conditions as his childhood."

"I don't understand. You want to see if Booth will get drunk and hit Parker if the room is silent for a few minutes?"

"No, nothing like that. I would never condone such violence, but in discovering his rage we might be able to eliminate the horrors he faced in his past."

"I understand your experiment, Dr. Sweets; however, Booth is not a man to experiment on for this. He is only a military man on the outside," Brennan explained getting up to leave, "Sifting out the memories and emotions for him would be cruel."

"It is my job to analyze your partnership. I can't make a rational decision to keep you together until I see if Booth has the same abusive tendencies as his father."

"I approve of your empirical methods, just be careful. Who knows what he has bottled up."


	2. Strike

Brennan exited Sweet's office serenely, hoping her partner had gone home. She couldn't handle a dinner with him like this, anger spilling out with every word, tense conversations about work. He couldn't be a friend at a time like this and no doubt an argument would erupt over the restaurant or another trivial topic. She would go back to her apartment and call Booth in an hour or so just to check in. He wouldn't open up to her, she knew that. Typically in a day or so after an awkward run-in with Sweets he would reveal some new fact about his childhood, leaving the emotions up to her imagination, and she would once again go against her beliefs and think that Booth needs therapy to delve into the underlying issues of rage, and blah blah blah…

As she reached the parking garage, Brennan noticed Booth's SUV. He was slouched against the driver-side door with his chin to his chest, arms folded, shaking his head from side to side. She approached and stopped a few feet in front of him.

"I thought you left."

"No, I promised you dinner." That's all she got out of him. He was still fuming, turning the conversation and memories over and over in his head.

"I'm sorry Booth, but you're too upset right now to enjoy my company. How about we reschedule for tomorrow? Diner, eight o' clock? You'll have forgotten all about this by then."

"Forget about it? Are you telling me just to forget my past? You know more than anyone how hard it is to let go of the past." Tears of pure rage formed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean forget your past, I meant forget about the argument with Sweets. He doesn't know how upset you can get talking about your father. I know not to talk about that with you, but he doesn't."

"So what, you shelter me? Avoid talking about that because you think I'll throw a temper tantrum? And I bet you tell all your little squints about that too. 'Don't say this in front of Booth, don't say—"

"I would never try to shelter you, and I have never told anyone at the—"

"Don't interrupt me! You're the same as Sweets. You barge in on my personal life and expect me to be okay with it." Suddenly the argument was like none they'd had before.

"I am not the same as Sweets. I understand you on my own. I don't need that psychology crap to see what you're feeling." She knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words came out.

"You think you know how I feel? I know you had it rough as a kid, but you didn't live in fear for your entire childhood. Your dad never abused you and your brother. You can't understand what I'm feeling right now—"

"Booth, I know—"

"Stop interrupting me! And stop thinking you know my life!" His chest was rocketing up and down with the tense breaths he sucked in between his clenched teeth.

For one tiny instant Brennan thought of running away from the livid eyes staring her down, but no one, not even Seeley Booth, could talk to her that way and get away with it. Her fears leapt from the sobs about to capsize her eyelids. A rush of power flooded her head.

"Don't ever talk to me that way! I am not a child you can scold to teach me a lesson." Her volume escalated into a yell. "Your behavior is completely out of line, and if you ever direct such hateful words at me again you can forget about us being partners." His bravado sank with her authoritative demands, and Brennan forgot her censorship. "You are a child. You can't say what you mean, and you always expect everyone to know what's right and wrong, but you won't give us a clue. I see exactly why your father hit you, you deserve it." With the last word, silence deadened the garage.

"What did you just say?"

"Oh Booth, I'm so—I didn't mean it."

"What did you say to me?"

"I take it back—"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME?"

Before she could apologize one last time, he lifted his right hand, flattened it in the air, and struck her across her left cheek. The throw made him stumble back three steps, and she collapsed in a heap on the ground. His eyes sunk into a deep chocolate and his mouth fell to the ground as he watched his partner grasp her cheek. She looked up and met his eyes with a look of disbelief.

"Bones, oh my God, Bones! I'm so sorry, oh my God," Booth breathed as he bent down to pull her hand away and see the damage he caused. Her eyes turned from disbelief to utter rage and humiliation.

He lifted her fingers away to see a crimson blotch spread across the left side of her face, but she shoved him back, knocking him to the ground.

"What did you do?" Bones asked so forcefully her voice cracked.

"Bones, I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. I was so angry. Oh my God, are you going to be ok? Let me get some ice. I'm so sorry." His eyes begged for forgiveness, but his words still couldn't understand what he had done. He reached out for her hand again, but she shoved him back harder than before.

"Just get away from me." He looked toward his SUV and back at her eyes now streaming with tears. "Get out of here! Go!" Her words were barely audible through the sobs, but Booth knew her inflection was chock-full of hate. "Leave Booth, go away!" He opened his door and looked back at her once more and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Just get away from me!" she screamed for the final time. Booth started the truck and roared out of the garage. Brennan clutched her face again as the burning pain set into her cheek and spread to her jaw and forehead.

Booth hit her. The one person she counted on to never lay a finger on her. Everything she knew about him was twisted in her memories. Was it his fault or was it hers? Could she be mad at him? She provoked those vengeful emotions. But he hit her.

Brennan didn't know what to do. Her ride was gone and she couldn't go back to Sweets. Her fingers trembled pulling her cell out of her pocket. The first number she thought to dial was the one she couldn't even bare to look at. Angela? No, she would call the cops. Was that the right thing to do? It was assault. No. She couldn't be rational now. Cam? Yes. Speed dial 5.

"Saroyan."

"Cam, it's Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan what happened?" Brennan didn't even know she was crying so hard.

"He hit me."

"Who hit you?"

"Booth." The sound came out jumbled.

"Who?"

"Booth, it was Booth."

"Oh my God, Brennan are you alright."

She tried to respond, but the pain replaced her thoughts with tragic emotions.

"Where are you?"

"Hoover building garage." Spasms hit her like a tidal wave.

"Don't leave, I'm coming to get you." She sank back down into the concrete where she was still sitting and choked back her tears. She was helpless. She was in pain. She was afraid.


End file.
